HoopsHype.com NBA Blogs - Seth Ferranti

Thug life. Prison ball. Going hard. That’s what being in the netherworld of corruption and violence is about. Dudes can fake about that Lexus they had on the street but they can’t fake about their b-ball game. Either they got one or not. In the pen you can’t front on the court because if you do you will get exposed.  And don’t get it twisted. Different joints got different styles of play. Some go harder than others. And one of the hardest joints in the nation was Lorton Penitentiary, the DC jail. Everything was notched up a couple of levels there – the violence, the corruption and the basketball. Let’s take a look back at what they called Lorton Ball.

“As you know, there are different levels of ballers in prison,” says Lorton legend and prison hoops expert Purple. “The level I played on was the cream of the crop. At this level it was very intense, extremely competitive with gifted athletes relentlessly going at each other. Then they had what they called Lorton Ball, which was just about anything goes. There were hard fouls on every play. But this kind of ball was based on men’s own insecurities, shortcomings and misconceptions about manhood. They thought that by them being in jail, they had to maintain a certain tough. I don’t go for nothing image. Not understanding that that barbaric style of ball took away from the beauty and artistry of the most magnificent game ever created.”

And maybe it can’t be broken down more specifically than that. But still in the pen dudes are going hard.

“It was dangerous because convicts ran the joint,” Purple says. “Also the majority of the dudes had some astronomical sentences so there was generally a pervasive attitude of don’t go for nothing and fuck the world. Then DC is a very small enclave and everyone at Lorton was from DC, both inmates and correctional officers. So beefs that may have started in the streets were carried over and it was no way to duck the drama. I’ve seen wars break out and the law just stand back and watch. I’ve seen the C/O’s get robbed at knifepoint and they even pulled a dead C/O out of a manhole. But there is a universal law that applies all around the world. If you are a real man in every sense of the word, then man recognizes man and respect is instantly established and reciprocated.”

On the court and on the pound.

But to understand the Lorton ethos you have to understand the environment.

“In terms of quality of life compared to other joints, Lorton was a five-star resort,” Purple says. “We had everything that people had in the streets except freedom of movement. You could get as many food packages as your people could afford to send. We wore street clothes. Any drug you can think of was always readily available and we had visits seven days a week. So if a dude just had to do some time, this is where he wanted to do it because there is no other joint in the country like Lorton.”

And for prison basketball superstars like Purple life was sweet.

“We wore street clothes so dudes were walking around in alligator shoes, Hugo Boss jeans and one dude even had a full-length white Mink coat. Don’t forget we were doing time. We had visits seven days a week and if you were in the loop, you had the opportunity to have sex with your woman seven days a week. It wasn’t nothing for a dude to be walking around the Hill with two or three thousand in his pocket. I remember a shakedown where the law found 48 grand in the ceiling. Now, this isn’t no hearsay that I’m passing on. This some stuff seen with my own eyes. So you can sort of imagine how life was for the baddest baller in this little project where b-ball was everything. I’ve had dudes pay me hundreds of dollars to play for their dorm. Games that I was part of have had as much as five G’s betted on them. There were all kinds of bets being wagered on intramural games. I know because I got a G for winning a game against the Madness shop team. Then before I came to the Hill there was this guy Arrilias Gregg, who was the incumbent King of the Hill. His man MF wanted to bet my man MB 5 G’s on a best two out of three one-on-one, but Gregg always came up with an excuse to duck the rec because he knew in his heart that he really couldn’t get in my business no matter how hard he tried to make everyone else think that he could. He just couldn’t bring himself to accept the responsibility of losing MF’s money.”

And a lot of money was won and lost on b-ball behind Lorton’s wall. But a lot of heads were busted too.

“I pretty much came up like any other underprivileged kid in SE Washington,” Purple says. “Single-parent household where mom raised five of us on her meager salary. The only difference was that I had a thirst for knowledge and big dreams. However, there is a degree of truth to man being a product of his environment. Because going to that Catholic school was my opportunity to rise above my situation and circumstances. But I would always run back to the hood seeking admiration and acceptance of dudes that I looked up to, dudes that didn’t mean me any good, dudes that I looked up to because of the misconceptions of manhood that were passed down to me in the hood because there was no man in my household to teach me how to be a real man. So I made a lot of bad decisions under the impression that they were good ones because they were derived from a faulty belief system.”

So the dude that once blocked a dude’s shot and busted his chin on the backboard and the dude that once scored 47 in a game that he played entirely with his left hand didn’t make the league because he bought into the Lorton Ball mentality before he was even incarcerated.

It’s sad but it’s a fact and circumstance that happens everyday in the inner city. As they say, if it ain’t rough it ain’t right. And you got to pay the cost to be the boss. In the hood and in prison it’s about intimidation and a false sense of respect that derives from the streets and the dog-eat-dog culture.

Purple’s seen plenty of stories like his where bad decisions robbed talented youngsters of the chance to show their skills to the world.

“There was this guy named Rock who played at Springarn who is the best ballhandler that I’ve ever seen,” Purple says. “He taught me how to dribble. I became fundamentally sound at St. Anthony’s High, but the raw essence of my game was honed on the playgrounds of DC. Coming up there were two dudes I idolized. My brother Jose and a cat named Stacy Robinson who could flat out do the damn thing. Both should have unquestionably played in the NBA, but both became victims of the drug game. Stacy had over 60 Division 1 scholarship offers. To this day Digger Phelps still talks about him. He’s the baddest dude I ever played against. But so was Terry Tibbs. Coincidently they both are Dunbar alumni. I have played against and with other dudes that could flat out do it. Like George “Snowball” Minnit, Curt Smith, Greg Jones, Arrilias Greg and Randolph “Machinegun” Milan.”

And understandably all of these dudes are legends in their own right. Forged in the cauldron of the hood and the belly of the beast.

They call him Maine. The kid from Harlem. He goes hard on the court. His game is like that. He makes it look effortless. Driving and slicing to the rim. The kid got moves. Did I say his game was like that? Well, I’ll say it again. The dude is for real. He got that New York handle – behind the back, through the legs, in traffic and all. Dude can ball. But let him tell it.

“I really love the game,” Jermaine White says. “I’m from Harlem, 115th and 8th Avenue, born and raised. My weight is 190. I stand 6-foot-l. Strong as well as physical.”

And dude ain’t telling no lies. The 29-year-old knifes to the rim, through the hacks, through the dudes hanging on his back, through the dudes trying to stop him. He makes it look graceful but at the same time he has a soldier’s mentality. It’s not all games with Maine. He’s going for the jugular.

“A challenge is a must,” Maine says. “So mentally I want war, I go hard so you’ll come with your A-game. If not, I’ll expose you. Then it’s too late cause you’re trying to respond to an ongoing attack. Especially when you’ve tried everything and I still do me. You’re mentally finished, dead.”

The kid backs it up on the court. Dude is a soldier. On the court and in life. He’s doing 125 months in the feds. Maine was on some gangsta shit for real.

“I’m incarcerated for armed bank robbery. I came to the feds in 2001. I’ve been to two FCI’s so far (Schuylkill and Loretto),” Maine says.

And he was doing his thing in the street too.

“As far as that goes, I played for Brandeis High School (92-95) and streetball in hood tourneys like GOAT, King-dome, Ray Diaz, Youngworld, Dyckman, etcetera. Out of town tournaments too.”

Maine is no stranger to winning

“As for chips, high school and local and out of town tourneys… About 15 total. A couple of sportsmanship awards, MVP one year.”

The list of accolades goes on. Maine is an accomplished player. And he remembers the first time he balled in jail.

“The first time I played ball inside I was ready to fight. Fouls were crazy,” Maine says. “People try to scare you with them. Also it’s a way to get cheap shots cause niggas is really trying to feel you out. Playing in here is different cause it’s more so strength than finesse. To me, I’m trying to kill you, inside and out in the world. Also people stacking teams. I don’t care who I’m teamed with, I’m going to win.”

Dude backs this up. Ain’t no fronting going on, but Maine keeps it real too.

“Sometimes shit gets outta control,” Maine says. “When it does, you punish the person and things calm down. This is a mental sport so feelings will always play a part. Honestly, people know who to foul all crazy. I don’t worry because I’m respected. I have no problem taking my respect either.”

Because sometimes in the joint that is what it takes. But before prison Maine had hoop dreams.

“Growing up in New York it was my dream to play in the league,” he says. “But right after high school, I got hit by two cars and my dreams were shattered.  Then going to the Island didn’t help either. I believe I could’ve played on the next level easily.”

Maine loves the league too.

“I love players I can relate too – Jason Kidd, Chauncey Billups, Carmelo Anthony, A.I. But I’m a true Knicks fan. I pattern my game after Chauncey and Kidd. I can play from the 1 to the 3. I prefer 2 or 3. I like to go to the hole whether it’s in transition or a set offense. I’m going to score or create.”

And the kid has flash too but he says, “Believe it or not, I don’t play for the crowds. I’m not flashy. Just your basic killer. That’s why it doesn’t seem like my numbers are up. You will only know at the end of the game, after I’ve won and killed you. I’d rather have my 5 and your 5 go. No crowds. Just us 10.”

With an assassin’s mindset, Maine wants the ball in crunch time.

“When the game is at the closing seconds, give it to me. I’m going to  create a winning look at the rim,” he says. “I just want the best possible shot. From me or my teammate. I want the W.”

And basketball is a big part of Maine’s life.

“Growing up it was the major part. But now it’s a stress reliever. I can only watch it briefly cause I’ll want to play. I play with anybody, scrut and all. Since I’ve been in, I’ve played just about every season as well as tourneys and summer leagues. I used to play everyday but I’ve stopped cause the talent level isn’t how it once was.”

But still Maine can’t stop playing and here at FCI Loretto he’s one of the best to do it.

“I go hard as hell,” says Larry “Lam” Jackson. The little dude who’s built like an NFL running back at 5-foot-8 and 190 pounds isn’t playing. The 34-year-old from Gary, Indiana is like a package of dynamite. His game is explosive and on the court he does whatever it takes to win despite any obstacles put in his way.

“I don’t do too much talking cause niggas be literally wanting to fight me. Nigga stay in their feelings and the crowd don’t make it any better. When I’m in kill mode, you’re dead,” Lam says.

And from what he’s been doing at FCI Loretto – killing the competition – the kid is not faking. He talks the talk and walks the walk, backing up all his words on the court.

Going to the rack, busting treys, posting up… Lam scores at will and reminds people of a similar bulldog-type point guard in the league who roughs it off on the regular.

“My game is more like Baron Davis. Can get it anywhere on the floor I want. My range is unlimited. What makes my game special is my will to win. I got that nobody can stop me attitude,” Lam says.

He proved it last Winter League (2007) taking the A-league title single handedly by dropping dazzling moves, forays into the paint and 30-point games in leading his team to the title.

“Ever since I’ve been down, I’ve played like that,” Lam says. “I’ve had so many moments like 41, 18 and 11 in a game, scoring 49 on the outside team. But the most recent championship was one of my best moments. Our whole starting frontline fouled out and we were left with only 4 players on the floor. We went into double overtime and I caught fire and we pulled the game off. The C/O told me that he been down 22 years and that’s the greatest performance he’s ever seen. I almost agree.”

Lam has been in the system a minute busting ass and taking names on the court.

“Been down nine years for conspiracy to deliver crack cocaine. I got 27 years,” Lam says. “I’ve been in FCI Greenville in Illinois and here at FCI Loretto in Pennsylvania.”

He has been doing his thing in the feds, shining on the court and on the pound.

“I’ve been on every varsity team that’s been assembled. Only lost two games in eight years against outside teams at FCI Greenville.”

Lam was like that on the street too.

“Played high school ball in Hammond, Indiana at Gauit High. I played one year at South Suburban Community College and two years at University of Dubuque in Iowa. I was all everything in college. I just got caught up in this dope game.”

He had dreams of the league too.

“Yeah, I wanted to play professional ball but size did play a factor. If not that, I was that nigga. My favorite player is Kobe Bryant. So you know I roll with the Lakers. I wish I could say I play like him but I’m more like Baron Davis.”

A miniature version of him at least. With the same bulldog mentality. And Lam knows in prison if it ain’t rough it ain’t right, so with his game he fits right in with all the roughnecks.

“Dudes take it to the next level in here,” He says. “Most fights start over basketball and the TVs. For real, when dudes get in they feelings it actually excites me so I go at them harder and whatever happens after that happens. Hopefully, niggas can just keep it on the court. If you will, I will. I respect everybody, except rats.”

That’s how it goes in the pen.

Lam remembers back to his first time balling in prison.

“My first experience was the same that it’s been on the street. I’m trying to show niggas that they ain’t got a chance in hell guarding me,” he says. “I ain’t gonna front. When I first went to FCI Greenville, them niggas had straight game.”

Because in prison that’s all dudes do. Play ball. Lam knows, he’s done it but he’s slowing down a little.

“I don’t rec as much as I used to because my hand was broken and it’s still healing but I still do the damn thing on game day. Since I’ve been down, I done seen some helluva players. Niggas go hard in the joint. Straight game.”

And Lam doesn’t get down with all the streetball antics.

“I’m from Indiana man and we don’t really get down with all that And1 stuff. All we know how to do is get buckets in bunches. I mean And1 is cool for the fans but what’s more embarrassing than having your opponent keep grabbing the ball out the net after you just killed him?”

You know when it’s crunch time Lam is gonna demand the ball.

“I have to have the ball when the game is on the line,” he says. “It’s not that I’m selfish but I truly believe I’m gonna do something positive with the rock. If we lose I’ll take the blame every time.”

Lam doesn’t do much losing, though. He is arguably the best player on the pound here at FCI Loretto. And he’s got the chip so dudes will have to see him. All challenges go through Lam.

The dude lives and breathes basketball. He’s the type of dude that stays down in the gym all day. Bullshitting with dudes, shooting, playing, watching.

“I’m an easygoing-type dude,” he says. “If I can’t get along with you, then something’s wrong. I watch some form of b-ball everyday. I don’t care if it’s the worst players in the world, I’m watching. I just love the art of the game.”

And here at FCI Loretto other prisoners love watching Lam’s art because for real, the kid is like that and the court is his canvass.

Long, lean, a slam dunk machine. In the world of prison basketball, you have crash test dummies and then you have players like Ali “B3″ Tatum, who at 6-foot-5 1/2 and 225 pounds might not even know the true extent of his abilities on the court. Dudes on the pound call the 26-year-old from Toledo, Ohio wild. But they don’t even know. The kid has been wild since Day 1. On the court and in life. But one thing is for certain, B3 as they call him (signifying the unit he lives in) can fly. He is not grounded like the rest of us mere mortals. On the basketball court he soars heads and shoulders above the other players. Dudes gotta be careful or they might get some nuts in their face because Ali is taking it to the rim. Because he goes hard in everything he does. In the real world, scouts would have been drooling over this kid’s ability from an early age, but since age 14 Ali has barely seen the streets. He grew up and learned to play ball inside these fences.

“I got juvenile life and spent seven years from age 14-21 in Tico a joint in Columbus, Ohio for murder and attempted murder,” Ali says  matter of factly.

He’s done a couple of bids since for possession of crack cocaine, trafficking in cocaine and assault but now he is serving 42 months in the feds for possession of a firearm. The kid is definitely no angel but that doesn’t stop him from soaring like one on the court. Tomahawk jam, alley-oop, two-handed power slam, reverse slam – they are all in his repertoire and dude can run the floor like a gazelle and of course finishing on the break is his specialty. In traffic or whatever. He doesn’t have to juke defenders because he can jump over them.

“I can do what I feel like doing when I feel like doing it,” Ali says.

And he’s right basically. This correspondent has witnessed him taking over games at will here in the rough-and-tumble world of prison basketball and bullrushing through the paint to the rim.

“I can play any position from the 2 to the 6. Shooting guard, small forward, power forward, center and out of body. That’s the 6th spot.”

And out of body is what dudes on the pound say when Ali has a great game. He had another out-of-body experience,” they say in reference to his unbelievable hops.

“All I ever wanted to do was dunk since I was 15,” Ali says. “And that is what I am known for. It’s like ‘Watch out, he’s coming.’”

Coming he is like a pogo stick. And Ali plays forth win.

“It’s about winning,” he says. “Shuttin’ ya man down and giving the crowd what they came to see. The dunks, the crossovers… My offense is a little and without the traveling and carrying cause, I give the crowd what they want. But my defense is of the NCAA-type where it’s played the hardest.”

Being in the pros was never a dream of Ali’s but he says, “I could play ball anywhere in the air or on water”.

About prison ball Ali says, “Dudes go real hard on the court. It’s a respect thang and a few real men would die for their respect.”

He admits that tempers flare at times on the court.

“Dudes get into their feelings. I do at times. That’s just part of prison ball.”

And to him, “Basketball is a stress reliever. That’s all. I focus on the bigger things in life.”

Yeah, like the NBA – where Ali says he supports KB8 and the Lake Show.

“But really I’m about winning. I got the hops of Vince Carter and its only common sense for me to have the ball in my hands and focus on mines,” Ali says.

At 6-foot-5, Kevin Mahoney, age 27, is doing it in the penitentiary. They call the Washington DC native T-Mac as in Tracy. And this high flyer can play. Straight to the rack on the break, a follow-up slam, two dribbles cutting in from the wing and bam – get it out your mouth, son. You can’t stop it. No matter how much you want to. The kid is just too explosive and quick. And he’s been proving it since Day 1 in the go-hard world of prison basketball.“My first experience of prison ball was real physical. No fouls called,” Kevin says. “Because down Lorton, you had to play physical or you couldn’t get on the court. Prison ball is different than ball on the streets because the guys in here are more in shape. A lot of fouls you may get on the street you won’t get in here.”